Michelle finished her first list feeling sad. Jen was one of her best friends, but if knowing her inner demons would help them later in life, Michelle was happy that she was making a list. Releasing a slight huff, she turned the page. She picked up a purple pen and started Becky’s list. Oddly enough, her eyes kept straying back to the spot earlier were she thought she saw something in the yard.
Get it together. There is no one out there. If for some reason I need a fucking smoke that bad, I can go somewhere else in this house, she thought.
Her thoughts drifted over to Jessica’s killer. But she couldn’t remember who he was. Clearly, she had blocked it out for a reason. All she could remember was, he killed Jessica’s sister. He also made her promise never to let anyone know he was alive. She told herself stories as to why. Her favorite version was that she ran into him in the woods shortly after the fire, he threatened to kill her, her family and all of her friends if she ever brought it up. More recently, she started to believe that was about as far from the truth as it could get.
Get it together, Michelle silently told herself. How long can I hold my friends at bay? They are acting like a pack of wolves chomping at the bit. I know that these lists will be on point. That they will allow me to know just how far I can push the envelope without worrying that one of my friends will break under pressure. So, I have to recognize each for their characters, for what they truly are, before I can allow this to go any further.
“Wow, what the fuck type of twisted thought was that?” Michelle questioned aloud.
I’ve never envisioned my friends as a pack, and I’ve never seen myself as a leader of any sort. “Fuck, maybe I need to write a list on myself too.” She chuckled. “Yeah, right. That’s not going to happen.”
Now, where was I, Michelle wondered as she struggled to maintain her grasp on reality? Oh yeah, purple pen. Becky.
BECKY:
Low self-image, feels she will never be good enough.
Is smart as hell, but refuses to follow through.
She doesn’t believe she will live up to everyone’s standards.
Can’t stand being in crowded places.
Feels like everyone is judging her.
Rarely speaks to anyone outside of her inner circle.
Scared of commitment.
Shy.
Lack of enjoyment.
***
Michelle started to write the list out for Steve and then for Jeremy. She gritted her teeth and crumpled both papers into a ball before chucking them into her wastebasket.
“Ah shit,” Michelle complained. “How the hell can two people be exactly alike and polar opposites at the same time? Grrr! Fuck! A cigarette sure does sound good right about now, along with some fresh air.”
Michelle grabbed her pack of smokes and Zippo before she headed out of her room. Every footstep seemed to leave an echo in the quiet house. On a subconscious level, Michelle was hoping to bump into one of her parents; although she knew that was unlikely. As she walked down the long hallway covered in different shades of dark colors, she kept her eyes open. Her ears strained for any sounds that shouldn’t be there.
With no shoes on, Michelle relished in the softness of their dark burgundy carpet. She smiled and started to skip along the entire length of the corridor as she tenderly ran her fingertips over the walls.
She glanced at herself in the mirror, which hung desolate, mocking her, lonely and sad. She still needed to make it from the third floor, which was all hers and set up with every amenity one could ever wish for. Meaning two sets of stairs before she reached her destination.
She shook her head and opened the front doors. Taking in deep gulps of air, Michelle walked out onto her large porch. She started to have this odd feeling that she was being watched. Her heart pounded.
She began to get paranoid, and couldn’t differentiate between what noises were real and weren’t.
There was a snap from some branches nearby. She heard a screech and then a very familiar sound. She didn’t imagine things.
The sound of the branches snapping under foot, a shrill spine-tingling screech, and the whistling—the fucking whistling. Was Jen right all this time? Was he back? No fucking way! Michelle considered the scenario—as she tried to convince herself it was the only logical explanation, or she was losing her mind.
She saw the flicker of a flame lighting up the face once hidden in shadows, and she knew it wasn’t a trick of her mind.
“Wha… What… How… Is it really you?” Michelle managed to get out in barely a whisper.
“Shhh.” He approached her very slowly. All the while reciting a poem in a singsong way.
“Hush little Shelly bear, from time to time life won’t be fair. For the world can be an isolated place, so wipe that frown off your pretty little face. Your daddy is nothing but a loser, and mommy has always been a user. What I tell you is no lie, soon you’ll forget me with no need to try, but until then I will sing you my sad lullaby. I’ll be shipped off again, only wanting you to remember. To remember. To remember.”
He is so close; I could reach out and touch him. He looks so familiar. I know it’s him—Jessica’s killer. By the light of the moon, now that he’s so close, I can even see the scars from the burns he received.
“What is your name? I don’t remember you. I know we’ve met before. You threatened me, that’s why I never turned you in, why I never told anyone… right?”
He started to back away slowly, leaving her with only a few words. “You have it all wrong, Michelle, I never threatened you. But you do have two things right, one of them being you do know me.” Then he was gone.
Michelle hurried back to her room and locked the door. She couldn’t shake the twisted lullaby—she remembered hearing it before and made a mental note to ask her parents about it the next time she saw one of them. It was several hours before she could concentrate on the list. She was scared. She thought about calling one of her friends, but she didn’t want to worry them. Once she felt safe, and she was certain he wasn’t coming back to kill her, Michelle let out a sigh of relief.
Besides, she thought, wouldn’t he have already done it? He had the perfect opportunity. Sure, I would put up one hell of a fight, but he was a big guy.
STEVE:
Needs constant order in his life.
Noticed he does things in three’s.
Extremely focused on detail.
Difficulty believing there is any way other than his own.
Has a hard time showing empathy.
Sets totally unrealistic goals.
Is absolutely obsessed with the idea he is going to be some crazy brilliant scientist someday.
Always thinks he is the smartest one in the room.
Desires praise.
Total sense of entitlement.
Seeks attention.
Michelle took a swig of her room-temperature soda and a few deep breaths.
JEREMY:
Superstitious.
Loves to speak in metaphors.
Hasn’t set any realist goals.
Loves spur of the moment adventure.
Loves being the center of attention.
Has a big issue in trusting anyone outside of our circle.
Gains self-esteem from power over others.
The goals he does set for himself; however strange they may be are strictly based on personal gratification.
Lack of empathy.
Irritable, even hostile at times when just a little anger would suffice.
“I didn’t write down every character defect, flaw, and trait of my friends, but I do have plenty to pull out my DSM and see where everyone lands,” Michelle half whispered half laughed to herself…
Technically, you have to be at least eighteen years old to be diagnosed with anything, except conduct disorder, which my loony tunes parents had me diagnosed with two years ago after I, eh fuck it, who cares… Michelle let her thoughts trail off, and started searching through her big book of “brain boo-boos” as s
he liked to call it.
Michelle spread out the list of her friends before her, tearing the pages from her notebook. She opened her DSM to the personality disorder section. At the bottom of each of her lists, she wrote out the diagnosis she thought fit each of her friends, hoping that this would work and her plan wouldn’t backfire.
Michelle picked up the summary she wrote earlier. She knew it was going to be hard reading over the memories of when Jessica was murdered, but she also believed it was an essential part of her strategy. Michelle grabbed her notes as well. She was feeling light on her feet as she strolled over to her black fuzzy beanbag chair, which she usually sat on while facing her TV. This time she placed the chair in front of her large mirror.
She began reading, but nothing could have prepared her for what it said. Slowly she gazed up into the mirror, no longer needing to read what was written on the pages. Michelle could feel the truth, which had been buried, wanted out. In an odd monotone, Michelle began speaking like she was talking to her parents.
“You guys lied to me. My whole life has been nothing but one big lie, how could you?” She asked her reflection. Michelle wasn’t aware of what she was doing. It was as if her mind had taken over. “Mommy, I have a brother, and you tried to hide him from me? I really don’t think it matters how young you were, what you did wasn’t right! You shipped him off like he was nothing. No wonder he hated you both. You call him your mistake! He is not a mistake, he is my brother, and you have ruined him. You threw him away like he was a piece of trash because you didn’t want to ruin your families’ names? So, what, did you do mommy? Run off and hide while he was in your belly? Where did you go, daddy?”
She remembered this was exactly how their conversation had gone when she was little. At that age, she must have forgotten; however, they had the same talk shortly after Jessica’s murder. The only thing different about this time was her parents weren’t there shut her down with the drug. The shrink even recommended the medication, saying it would help keep those memories blocked.
Michelle’s parents, Enzo Travessa and Julianna Mazzola, were descendants of the twenty-two Italian families who founded Sawsville. They were lovebirds since elementary school, but for whatever reason, even though Sawsville was not a judgmental town, the fact that Julianna wound up pregnant at such a young age made her strict parents ashamed. So, they sent her to live with her aunt in the next town over. She was hidden from the world as soon as she began to show. Enzo’s parents wanted to adopt their grandson, but Julianna’s parents would have none of it. They insisted on giving “the boy” away. What they didn’t count on, was Julianna’s aunt taking legal matters into her own hands. She ended up with custody.
Thirteen years passed, and Julianna and Enzo remained together. By then, Jewel’s parents were killed in a freak car accident, and Enzo’s parents had moved to Florida. Julianna and Enzo were married and had an almost three-year-old daughter, Michelle. Then there was a life-changing knock on the door. Maria, Jewel’s aunt, had shown up out of the blue. She was a wreck, stunk of booze, and was thin as a rail. She had a boy with her, along with a minuscule suitcase with all of his belongings. She was ranting something about pure evil, and it was his fault she lost her husband, her house, all of her money, and that was that. She shoved him through the door screaming take your son back and then she left.
Chapter Nine
Michelle
Something began to slowly and steadily change. Her gut told her this time it was going to be worse. This time she needed to prepare, only it seemed that her brain didn’t understand the concept of time. She stared at her reflection, watching her eyes glaze over. Tears fell swiftly down her cheeks. Before she knew it, she was in another time, hearing every word.
“Mommy, who’s him?” Michelle asked her mother from the top of the stairs.
“Go back and play in your room, Michelle,” her mother called to her.
“Why did my mom say I am your son?” Asked the older boy that was now in the family room.
Michelle’s mom’s eyes filled with tears, and her dad must have been at work because he wasn’t there. Her mom tried to explain about being young, about her parents, but that didn’t matter to him. He looked angry, hurt, and most of all, full of rage. Michelle’s mom tried to calm him down, but nothing was working. He was yelling, cursing, and breaking things. Michelle could tell that her mom was scared.
Michelle’s mom tried a different approach and asked him what his name was.
“I don’t know why you give a shit now since you didn’t bother to even give me a name, but it’s Matt. Matthew David Ricci.” He growled “Or at least it was, I don’t know what the fuck my name is now. So just call me Matt.”
Michelle could tell that he was sad on top of everything else he was feeling; she could see it in his eyes.
Michelle sneezed.
“Damn it, Michelle,” her mom yelled. “I told you to go play in your room. You’re not to listen to our problems.”
“Huh, problems? Yep, that’s all I am,” Matt said sadly as he glanced around.
He took a peek at Michelle.
“Michelle, eh? That’s a beautiful name. Why don’t you come down here?”
She gave him a little smile as she went down the stairs, her mom even grinned a little as he picked Michelle up and spun her like a helicopter.
She thought happily I have a brother.
She looked at the mirror, thinking of her brother. He was kind to me. Caring and compassionate at first. Then he got bored. I didn’t blame him; anyone would. He was treated like shit by his foster parents and biological ones.
“Locked away inside a mansion that must have felt like a prison. But he could escape, and he did—nightly. He would climb down the oak tree. I know this because it went right past my old bedroom. He would pass by my window whistling the entire time. He would knock on my window. At first, I would go and open it as he wanted, but then he started saying things that made no sense. He would tell me stories about demons and voices he heard. How he had to do something for them. After a while, I just stopped opening the window. I would peek out from my covers, and he would smile before giving me a wink. After that, I pretended not to be awake, but I could still hear him whistling. I was eight when I thought he stopped,” Michelle whispered to herself, still in a half-foggy state.
“I really need to talk to my parents.”
Michelle didn’t like the feeling that was rushing through her body. She gazed into the mirror and could see a change in her unique violet-gray eyes. By the time Michelle was done recalling everything, she had realized it was almost 5 a.m. Now she had a big day ahead of her, and she didn’t want to deal with sharing her new memories with her parents, or her friends. With no sleep, she chose to skip out on the first half of school. She knew that both of her parents would be home around noon, so she set her alarm for 11 a.m.
Chapter Ten
Michelle
Michelle slowly fell backward onto her bed as the sun was just reaching the horizon. Her head hit her soft pillow. Her blue hair fell over her face. She felt herself slipping.
Jen’s mom, Kathy, was crying hysterically. The small police force was finally taking Jessica’s disappearance serious since it had been over three days, and she was still missing.
Even though Michelle was asleep, she knew she was dreaming. She had been able to tell when she was dreaming for the past year now, mostly because of the reoccurring nightmares. While she still hadn’t learned to wake herself, she was able to tell herself it’s only a nightmare; I’ll wake up soon. She was also able to notice when things were off. This time, she saw something in her dream which led to more questions. The night Jessica went missing, Michelle’s parents had turned their basement into a playroom, but why? Michelle felt herself waking up, but this was one of those rare times she didn’t want to wake early.
There were so many families here, so many kids. When we were told to go to the playroom in the basement, I remember leading the way. Jen was crying;
she wanted to search for her sister. I told her, Steve, Becky, and Jeremy to come with me. We went back upstairs. They just finished up the first round of searching.
I’d begged them to let us come for their second search. Jen’s mom said no, so did Police Chief Calpolli. But it was Jeremy’s dad who said we could join his team. He said he would keep an eye on us, that he would make sure he got us back before dark.
Five hours of searching, and now we moved on to the section behind the asylum, past the old rail station, down the hill, and to the side of the creek. We weren’t supposed to cross the creek; another team would be searching from the other side and ending there. We had our lunch at the old rail stop.
It must have been about two o’clock in the afternoon when we hit the hill that leads down to the creek. Before we started down the hill, Mr. Penciotti, Jeremy’s dad, stopped us and had a talk with the other adults on our team. Then he turned to us kids and said, “Stay close. With the recent rain, the creek will be higher than usual and even with the sun shining during the day we are deep in the woods, so there may still be some slick spots.” He ordered the adults, “Spread out. We need eyes everywhere.” We kids stayed pretty close to Jeremy’s dad, but even back then something in my gut was calling to me.
Shortly before Jess had vanished, Michelle remembered following her big brother to see where it was he’d snuck off to every night. She was always an adventurous child—even when she knew it was dangerous, or if caught she would get in trouble. Matt went a lot of places, but this part of the creek had seemed to be his favorite.
I went off on my own; I knew we weren’t supposed to separate. Jen, Becky, and Steve were told to stick together no matter what, while Jeremy and I were paired. We were all expected to stay in close proximity to Jeremy’s dad. I knew Jer well enough that he wouldn’t mind the adventure of being on his own, but I knew he wouldn’t tell me that. So, I told him to head down the trail on the left, while I headed down the smaller path on the right.
The path I took wasn’t really a trail at all, but more like a self-made track from someone walking over repeatedly. Jeremy’s dad had been right about one thing—the rain had made the leaves slippery; yet, at the same time, the mud also made it sticky. My small feet would slip on a wet pile of leaves then I would find myself sliding into a sticky patch of dirt. I instead chose a steeper way down. It appeared to be drier. It had rocks and large branches to help hold me up.
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